


Photograph

by septicat



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septicat/pseuds/septicat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"And you can keep me inside the pocket of your ripped jeans..."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photograph

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the song Photograph by Ed Sheeran.  
> I'm kind of proud of this one, so I hope you enjoy it, even though it's a lot shorter than I had planned.  
> <3

Jack cursed at himself as he walked through the small hallway of his apartment, leaving small footprints of water on the hardwood. He knew better than to get in the shower without a towel ready, since the only place that he could fit them was his bedroom closet. In past week he had spent in Los Angeles, he had the benefit of staying with Mark, who always brought him a towel when he forgot to take one with him. He had only been home two days, but he had forgotten his towel on both occasions.

He eventually made it to his closet, not without making a slippery mess that he would have to clean up later. He quickly dried himself off, and found an acceptable outfit before grabbing the used towel to clean up the mess he had brought along with him.

It wasn't until he was in his kitchen, waiting for his first pot of coffee to finish percolating, that he noticed the paper in his back pocket. He was positive he didn't leave anything in them when he washed them before coming home, and he hadn't worn them sense then, either. He reached in the left side of his jeans and pulled out the mysterious, folded paper that was tucked neatly inside.

He opened the paper to its full size, and a smaller square floated onto the floor, finally escaping the confides of the lined notebook sheet. He reached down and picked up what he could now tell was a picture, and he could feel his heart swell and his eyes water at the image.

It was something that Jack couldn't forget if he tried, and he didn't want to, at all. While in LA, he and Mark had went on a walk after a few days of being there. It was dark, and Jack was nervous as he had heard LA could be very dangerous at night, but Mark reassured him he was perfectly safe and convinced him to go.

They strolled along for awhile before Jack complained about being to hungry to continue, and Mark lead him to a 24 hour fast food place at the corner. They had ordered their food to go, and ate their cheap, greasy burgers as they waltzed to a small, empty side street near Mark's apartment. They ate happily, eventually stopping under a lamp post with a metal bench underneath. They sat as they finished their food, talking about everything; how Mark wanted to visit Ireland, about who was going to beat the other at their game of Grand Theft Auto later that evening, and how Jack had thought about moving to Los Angeles, especially after being there with Mark and experiencing for himself.

Jack remembered how thrilled Mark was at the idea of him living there. He remembered how Mark's face turned a deep red when he slipped, telling Jack how beautiful he was when he laughed. He remembered thinking that that evening was enough to confirm any doubt he had about his feelings for Mark. He didn't, however, remember the seconds before he kissed him under that lamp post. It happened so fast, and so suddenly, he didn't have to time process anything before his lips were against his best friend's, and when Mark slid him closer by his hips, he felt a rush of emotion that he hadn't felt in months.

They sat under that lamp post for another hour, hand in hand, spilling everything they had kept to themselves for far too long. Then, Mark asked if he could take a picture.

“Of what?” Mark had laughed in response.

“Of us, what the fuck else would I mean?” Jack agreed, and moved even closer to Mark as he got his phone ready. He wasn't prepared, however, for Mark's lips to be pressed against his cheek right before the camera clicked, causing Jack to laugh instead of keeping the smile he had ready.

It was that exact picture that sat in his hands now. After staring at it for a good minute, he switched his attention to the paper he had unfolded. He recognized the scratchy handwriting immediately as Mark's, as if he had any doubt about how the picture had gotten there before.

_Jack._

_I know you're upset about having to back to Ireland, just as I am upset that you're not here with me anymore. I don't know how long it took you to find this, knowing my luck, you won't wear these jeans for a month or something._

_You told me that you were worried about hurting me, and that's why you waited so long to do or say anything to me about how you felt. I want you to know that it's okay if I get hurt. Loving someone does that sometimes, but I have full faith that you'll never do that. I went through enough being head over heels for you for too long without saying a damn thing, and that was the hardest thing I had ever done. I just want you to know that you'll never have to be alone, ever again._

_I want you to have this picture, and I want you to keep it with you. I know I physically can't be there with you, like I wish I could be, but this will have to do until that time comes. I can't wait until you come to live in Los Angeles. I'm excited to start a new home with you._

_I love you,_

_Mark._

 

The ringing from his cell phone caused Mark to jump in his seat at his desk. He had been completely entrapped in his work, and hearing the ringing at the obnoxious volume from his phone nearly caused his heart to leap out of his chest.

He picked it up, saw that it was Jack calling him, and didn't hesitate to answer it. 

“Hello?” There wasn't an immediate response, but he could hear labored breathing from the other end. “Jack, are you okay?” 

“Thank you.” Jack sounded as if he had been crying, barely talking above a whisper, but he didn't sound sad. Mark knew immediately that he had found the picture, and smiled to himself. “Just, promise me something?” 

“Anything.” Jack took a deep breath, collecting himself and his thoughts before he could speak properly.

“Wait for me to come home.”


End file.
